


Lost From When We Wake (With No Way To Go Back)

by citizenjess (givehimonemore)



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avengers Tower, Battleworld (Marvel), Fight As One, Half-Sibling Incest, Interior Decorating, M/M, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Season/Series 04, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 21:43:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14902574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/pseuds/citizenjess
Summary: After the events of "Underworld" (episode 4x18 of the Avengers Assemble cartoon), Thor tries not to let Loki in again, only to find that his brother never left.





	Lost From When We Wake (With No Way To Go Back)

**Author's Note:**

> Really, really loving Troy Baker's scheming dirtbag Loki at the moment. Title is lyrics from the theme song of a different Avengers show called Earth's Mightiest Heroes.

He had tried to set boundaries. 

He had told himself countless times, even before Loki had turned Earth into his own personal igloo for a time, that this was the end of his similarly countless attempts to see the good in his adopted brother. He had managed to stay away while Loki was locked up in the basement of Avengers Tower, had tried to tell himself that it was just good (if boring, which was ironic, considering how much downtime Thor had spent with Loki, doing, well, everything) that the galaxy was at last (for now) safe from the constantly scheming God of Mischief. That was largely why they were here, even, because Loki had schemed and gotten himself in over his head and took the Avengers with him this time. There was nothing about this situation that was any different from the previous times he had been deceived by Loki, and he would bet his hammer that it wouldn't be the last, either.

"You need another robe, brother, preferably one without Midgardian dogs all over it."

Thor had tried to set boundaries. It was just that Loki was, always had been, and always would be extremely good at dismantling them.

"Odd, I don't recall giving you permission to borrow that." He pauses. "And Jane picked it out. They look sort of like her little doggie."

"Ugh," Loki scoffs. Knowing the thing was a symbol of Thor's relationship with that (UGH) female human nearly made him shuck it off. "It's not like I have anything of my own here." 

"There are parts of Asgard here. You could just go there." Thor settled back against the headboard. "You could even" - he feigned a gasp - "find your own room here."

"And here I thought you were glad I didn't needlessly sacrifice myself like Amora in order to get the busted Bifrost open." To his credit, Loki's expressive blue eyes help him to appear fairly convincingly hurt as he says it. Hidden somewhere between that and his verbalized excuses is the relatively plainfaced notion that, in fact, he's missed his big brother, that realizing the Avengers had also been pulled into this tacky Battleworld experiment had filled him with a bevy of conflicting emotions, but among them had been relief, even hope. He had fairly scrambled into the obsequious, familiar tower like a fanatic into a church.

Naturally, he had capitalized upon these (ugh, ugh, UGH) feelings by making himself at home in Thor's own makeshift quarters. Steam still exited the bathroom through the doorway, taking with it the faint smell of shower gel (Thor's, bought for him by Jane as well, along with a poofy thing that Loki had shrugged and then proceeded to rub all over himself), an aroma which Thor imagines still clings to Loki's skin. "I am pleased you are here, brother," Thor relents with a small sigh. "Don't you want your own bed thou-"

That was when Loki had pulled open the robe, exposing pale flesh, tinged pink from its recent bout with hot water, when he dropped the offending garment carelessly on the ground, toeing it away from his ankles. "This one will do," he announces with an easy grin, "though I do hope your bedding is not also covered in Midgardian household pets."

Thor, still sitting atop his made up duvet, shakes his head a little. "The Man of Iron decorated all of the rooms. They're all one color." Vaguely, he envisions Loki spread out across his silken, crimson-colored sheets, and then blinks hard a couple of times to put the notion out of his head.

Unfortunately, a naked, freshly bathed Loki (dampness still clings to his curly, raven locks, Thor cannot help but notice, locks that bounce as his brother climbs atop the bed and begins crawling, CRAWLING, towards him) is not much of an improvement, in terms of Thor's mind ceasing to focus on anything dirty. Even more unfortunately, he is positive that Loki somehow knows exactly what he's picturing. Sure enough: "I suppose as long as they come clean in the laundry box."

"I think it's called a 'washing machine.'" Thor swallows as Loki comes to perch at his side, on his knees, nude as the day he was born - even the headpiece he usually sports has been removed for the night. Even stripped down, however, he remains as lovely and crafty as ever.

"Well, I don't think you're going to so much as muss them while you're still wearing all that." Loki points to Thor's armor and boots and various accoutrement that has always been taken hostage on Battleworld. "Arms up," he commands, and Thor hesitates for a moment before complying. "Mmm," Loki purrs as Thor's own clothing is removed, piece by piece, with Loki's usual brand of ruthless, sensual efficiency. One finger grazes a nipple, and he sees Thor shudder. "Are you cold, brother?" he asks, feigning ignorance, though it's a poor ruse, given how much his lips upturn into a smirk as he says it. "Perhaps you need to be warmed up."

"That's rich coming from the son of a Frost Gian- AH!" Thor's sardonic comment is interrupted by Loki gripping and twisting the same previously brushed nipple, hard. "I suppose I'm a little bit ... cold," he says. "Will you help me with that, brother?" 

Loki purses his lips. "Hmm." His eyes glint mischievously. "No," he gets out, but its petulance is marred by the wide grin he does not seem able to keep from spreading across his face at his own joke. Likewise, his beginning to arrange himself atop Thor's lap, ass pressed against the thunder god's half-hardened cock, gives away his true intentions. "Tell me, brother," Loki says, "Was this how you expected to spend this night, in the company of such a charming bedmate?"

"Very charming. Extremely modest, too," Thor retorts. Maturely, Loki sticks his tongue out. "Do not do that again," Thor warns, only half-teasingly, "or I will take it from you."

"With your mouth, I presume?" It is difficult to take much of anything Loki says or does seriously when he bats his eyelashes the way he is now. 

Thor sighs ruefully. "Must everything be a competition with you, brother?"

Loki's eyes flash with a sudden spark of indignation. "With me! You, who spent our entire shared adolescence gleefully subjugating me in battle to earn the Allfather's praise, are complaining of my competitive nature, borne sheerly of the need to survive the blows from your fists and that damned hammer?"

Thor gapes a little. "Brother, I-" It is very, very strange to be having a heated argument with Loki whilst the other man sits, naked, on his lap, he has to take the time to observe. "Odin did encourage us to compete, it is true," he continues cautiously. "But I always enjoyed it - not because I often won," he clarifies hastily as Loki's nostrils flare a little, "but because I was with you! I thought we were honing our skills together on the battlefield so we would work well on the same side, knowing one another's respective strengths!" He looks away briefly. "I did not realize I was the only one of us having a good time, brother. I - I apologize."

Loki vacillates a little, arms crossed, but not as annoyed as he was a moment ago. "I ... suppose if I were to look back on our shared past with a more honest eye," he relents, "I would likely find several moments of bliss, even on the battlefield. We were - are - quite powerful together, after all. Even Hela told me once that she longed for the days when our fights would shake the very foundations of Asgard."

Thor's expression is somewhat radiant now. Loki tries to be disgusted by his utter naivete, but alas, he mostly just finds the corners of his mouth upturning as well. "As I recall, the celebration following each fight, regardless of the victor, was even more precarious to Asgard's infrastructure." Loki's laughter at this is genuine, not sardonic or vicious, and Thor's heart sings to hear it. Still, he is cautious not to overstep whatever boundaries his brother has built around himself. "Does my memory serve me accurately here?" he queries, and their gazes meet suddenly.

Loki's voice is but a whisper now. "Surprisingly, yes," he intones, and hears Thor murmur his name before cupping his face between large, calloused hands and bringing their lips together in a joyous coda to the past, to all that they had been to one another, whether anyone else quite understood their relationship or not. 

Deepening the kiss causes Loki to cling to him, long, dexterous fingers cool against Thor's skin. Likewise, he is able to wring increasingly insistent keening groans and other sounds from his brother by fastening his mouth to the juncture of Loki's neck and shoulder. It is a nice change of pace from the taunts and barbs Loki tends to aim in his direction these days, and Thor smiles when he bites Loki's Adam's apple and the other man jumps and yelps. 

"You know, you never answered my question earlier," Loki says, whilst nonetheless allowing Thor to manhandle him - only in the best way, of course - onto his back. "Was this your ultimate plan for the evening, brother?" he adds when Thor looks slightly confused.

"Oh." The God of Thunder smiles anew. "Did I anticipate my little brother's delightful presence in my bed on this night? No. Did you? I daresay you are a mighty sorcerer if you had, in fact, predicted such an event should come to pass." 

"Hmm." Loki gazes up at Thor, luminescent while bathed in the room's artificial lighting, coming to rest between Loki's now spread legs in a manner which suggested perhaps the exact opposite of rest. "Adopted little brother, anyway," Loki grumps, and then full on gasps when Thor leans over, nearly bending him in half. 

"Shush," Thor frowns, and silences him with another kiss. "You know that I have never cared about such things. You are and will always be my family, Loki." 

Loki sniffs haughtily. "Allfather certainly did not share your apathy."

Thor finds a space near Loki's head to anchor his palm against the as of yet still uncovered sheets. "I cannot speak for Father," he replies. "I am not him. I know," he adds, running a hand up the side of one of Loki's pale, muscular thighs, making him squirm, "that it is easier not to separate us in your mind; but, well ..." He finally shrugs. "Are we so interchangeable that you would just as soon do this with him right now?"

"I hate you," Loki glares, baring his teeth at Thor's magnanimous smile. "But I suppose I hate you in a somewhat different way than Odin." 

Thor snorts. "I'll take it." The fingers of his other hand quest searchingly between them. "Some spell you might have conveniently up your sleeve - metaphorically, of course, for you are quite naked right now, brother - for lubrication would not go unwelcome at the moment," he says, and then adds, "or a silencing spell, for that matter."

"Whatever do you do when the lovely Doctor Foster occupies your bed?" Loki does, in fact, bespell the room, though, and Thor's fingers, which are soon being worked gradually inside of him. The delicious friction causes his abdominal muscles to tense. "Or does she simply bite her knuckle and think of England, as the mortal saying goes?"

Thor outright rolls his eyes. "Perhaps she would if I were merely a brute rutting into her for the purposes of a procreative alliance between kingdoms." He jams three digits straight up Loki's ass, then, and looks pleased when it makes his brother gasp. "Is that what you take me for, brother?" he asks, and it's not entirely fair now that the aforementioned fingers are now caressing Loki's insides in tiny circles, but Loki is hardly the person to complain about such treatment. "A mere, uh -" and he grunts as he successfully replaces fingers with his cock inside of Loki's ass hole - "a mere beast?"

"I always thought you looked a bit wild," Loki jokes, though his voice is throatier than normal, like he's fuller than usual. "Perhaps I am not the only adopted Odinson. Perhaps you have your own tragic backstory, brother: Thor, offspring of a bilgesnipe." He considers this. "And you're still more worthy of Mjolnir than I am. I give up. Clearly, I am cursed."

Thor barks out a laugh. "I am a very worthy bilgesnipe." His hair, straight and yellow, falls forward as he leans down further, nose and forehead hovering just above Loki's own. Beneath him, the trickster god is decadently spread, raven locks now mostly dry; the texture and weight are dissimilar to his own, but the length is essentially the same. They compliment one another in so many ways, he thinks, suddenly fierceful, determined; if it takes their being trapped here together to make Loki see himself the way Thor sees him, he will consider it time well spent.

He kisses his brother then, passionately, and Loki tugs him closer, Thor's mouth swallowing the small huff of surprise that exits his own. Thor's thrusts become more pointed, his cock accurately spearing Loki's most sensitive spot repeatedly, and Loki caterwauls and clings and shakes beneath him, especially when Thor reaches between them and grips the head of Loki's own cock, speeding to match his thrusts and hand movements. When they come, closely enough together that they might as well simply say that it was a simultaneous act, Loki is certain he has visions of Valhalla; his own, alas, from his not brief enough stint there, yet enhanced with a filmy haze, an indication, perhaps, that when at last he does return for his eternal rest, it might not be quite as bad.

Needless to say, the silencing spell had been a good idea.

Spent, their breaths comingling and gradually slowing down, Thor rolls off of his brother, but not far away. "How was that?" he finally murmurs against Loki's collarbone. 

Similarly winded, Loki balefully blinks pale, ice blue slivers at him. "Not bad, for a bilgesnipe," he teases, and Thor snorts. There is yet more kissing, and then, with a handy wave of Loki's hand, the bedding is at long last pulled down, Thor's deep red sheets finally revealed. He was right: Loki looks positively sinful, spread out on top of them the way he is now. "Does this satisfy you, brother?" Loki asks, one cheek obstructed partially by a pillow. 

Thor studies Loki's calm (for once), inquisitive face. "Does it satisfy you?" he returns.

Loki smiles a bit grimly here. "Satisfaction is not in my nature," he replies. 

Thor reaches out to brush hair from Loki's face. "Surrender is not in mine," he tells his brother; "and so I suppose I will have to try again until I have at last managed to please you." He begins to draw his hand away, but Loki catches it, pressing it close, smiling when he feels it curl against his neck and cheek, a habit of Thor's from veritable ages before. His brother's lips are soft against the rough pads of his fingertips, even as his last retort before slumber begins to take them both (Loki's magic has even dimmed the lights for proper ambiance) is laced with the faintest hint of poison:

"You can try, dear brother."


End file.
